“If a guy hits .300 every year, what does he have to look forward to? I always tried to stay around .190, with three or four RBI. And I tried to get them all in September. That way I always had something to talk about during the winter.”
Ah, Fall. The mere mention of the word signals the beginning of the end of most of the things I’d mentioned in my “Spring” entry (green grass, fresh air through open windows, BBQ’s, hot apple pie cooling on the windowsill (which I’ve never done) and walking the dog without bundling up to the eyes). It also means the neighbors will still be out in their backyard on their lawn chairs smoking pot while their comedian cum jailbird teenage son puts hotdogs in everyone’s mailboxes and bananas in everyone’s tailpipes, only now, they’ll be wearing sweaters. On the bright side, the wasps and creepy crawlies will also be no more, the flyswatters and bug killers neatly stored away until next Spring. Oh bliss!
It was so wondrous to see the Canada Geese training their young for the big trip south. Far less wondrous will be the sure knowledge of the return of Winter. Leaves of every make, model and color will soon decorate the trees… including the giant heritage oak tree in my back yard that dwarfs literally everything within a three-mile radius, and who’s annual leaf dump literally and absolutely buries every living (and nonliving) thing not only in my back yard, but in at least three other back yards on either side. But that’s okay. We’ll be ready for it. We’ll go to Home Depot and corner the market again, this time on every new fangled rake, blower and gas-powered picker-upper imaginable, right? Yep, we certainly will. We’re still outdoorsy types who know we‘re gonna be shut-ins again, and nothing—nothing—is gonna turn our Summer Utopias into Fall nightmares one moment sooner than they have to be, including Fall.
Speaking of Fall, there is nothing more depressing to a cold-weather hater like myself than to hear the furnace kick on in the morning. Almost as bad is knowing that the idiot-proof flowers you spent a small fortune on in the Spring and then cursed and grudgingly coaxed into living throughout the Summer are at that very moment being turned into frosty flowersicles. But so it goes, right? Seasons change and we have to change with them. So it’s into the closet to dig out the coats we’d happily stuffed away during our Spring cleaning days that seem like… oh, I dunno—last week, maybe? And while we’re in there, we may as well get out boots and hats and scarves, and our flannel sheets and comforters as well. Oh, and let’s not forget the leftover window Saran Wrap-like stuff—the stuff that takes us an hour to put up and our cats a second to shred down. And the ice picks—don‘t forget the ice picks. After all, we’ll need something that’ll chip assorted frozen foodstuffs out of the bottoms of our mailboxes, left courtesy of that knee-slappingly funny teenager who unfortunately still lives next door.
But most importantly, Fall brings thoughts of renewed ambition. Specifically, writing! We may as well, yes? I mean, what else will we have to do? So enjoy it. Clean that thing you call a writing desk and then stock up on paper, pens, stamps and sticky-notes. And while you’re at it, don’t forget a warm throw blanket and a bag of hotdog buns. After all, it’s Fall!